The Greatest Lover in All England (11 page)

As an even exchange, he let her absorb his emotions. Fury, fury, and lust. And…fury. At being so trapped. At having to marry a lowlife, highborn actress. At losing the status he had slaved so hard to obtain.

At being a bastard with no other prospects.

Slowly, Tony lifted himself to his feet. “As you say, Sir Danny, marriage is the perfect solution to our problem.” Strolling over to the window, he wrapped his arms around Rosie's stiff figure and insolently nuzzled her neck. “I will marry the vagabond heiress as soon as possible.”

But he'd forgotten that Rosie was a child of the streets. One bony fist split his lip and one sharp shoe bruised his shin. As he cupped his mouth and hopped on one foot, she straightened with disdain.

“If I'm the heir, why do I need Tony? Why do I need to be married? I'll take my lands and my title back, and he can fry in hell.”

Stupid men, gawking
at her like pelicans denied a fish.

Stupid Sir Danny, playing the scene with flash and drama and thinking she would thank him for shaping her whole life while abandoning her.

Stupid Tony, imagining he was doing her a favor by marrying her and lifting her from her lowly existence. Making a fool of her by pretending not to know she was a woman, and all the time laughing deep in his chest.

And stupid Rosie, for fantasizing that she might really be the heiress Rosalyn. That she might have lived here in this place with a father who had loved her and servants who adored her. That she might
belong
somewhere other than a cramped gypsy wagon and a different village every week.

Stupid, gullible Rosie.

“Manly smell, indeed,” Rosie sneered. “You stink of carnation soap.”

Sir Danny looked confused. Tony did not. He lowered his hand and wiped his bloody palm on his canions. “I smell of carnation, and you strike like a warrior. We will be a seemly couple.”

Did he think she was jesting when she declared she would not marry? “We will be no couple at all.”

“How do you think you will be rid of me? I'm in possession. You might say”—Tony smiled, although she would have sworn he was furious—“I am firmly in the saddle.”

Outraged by the innuendo, she snapped, “Why not return to your original plan, with some modification, forsooth. I'll take possession of the Sadler lands, and you can marry into the nobility and live off your wife. Lady Honora has been eyeing your codpiece.”

Tony roared like a baited bull, and Sir Danny grabbed her wrist and jerked her aside as if he expected him to charge. But Tony regained control immediately—or perhaps he'd never lost it—and smiled with insolent disdain.

Drawing her stiff figure into his embrace, Sir Danny hugged her tight while keeping an eye on Tony. “You're hurt. You're angry. You're speaking without giving consideration to the advantages for
me
.”

“Advantages?” She could scarcely understand him, and didn't care.

Holding her gaze, Tony slid a hand along the sill where she had stood and rubbed the rich brown wood with his palm. “It's still warm,” he said.

Sir Danny chatted. “You'll have a title, and with that you'll be able to sponsor my acting troupe.”

She watched the caress of Tony's fingertips and remembered that first moment they met. How he had tempted her, taught her, touched her.

“Wouldn't you like to be our benefactor?” Sir Danny coaxed.

“I don't need
him
to be your benefactor.”

Sir Danny struggled on, regardless of her aversion. “I'll be able to legitimately act in London, just as Uncle Will does. I'll have money for costumes and when I get too old to go on the road, I'll have a place to come.”

“Fine. But all this is mine. I needn't marry.”

Observing her unrelenting rejection, Tony asked, “Ungrateful wretch, isn't she?”

She shoved Sir Danny aside and marched right up to the obnoxious, scornful jackanapes. “
You're
out of favor with the queen. I heard that much from your guests at your house party, and as obnoxious as you are, I understand why. I'll present my claim to Her Majesty, and she'll grant it at once.”

“How do you propose to get to the queen?” Tony took hold of her shirt strings and reeled her in like a fish. “I have you here, and I will hold you.”

She looked down at the knuckles close under her chin, and looked up at him, taller and broader and tougher than any man she knew. He would keep her here, a prisoner? “I've got out of tighter predicaments.”

“By yourself? Without the help of Sir Danny?” His beautiful wide eyes narrowed. “With my faithful servants and my faithful soldiers watching your every move?”

Tony thought just because he paid the soldiers and servants they would do as he wished, and she feared he was right. She said, “I trow there are some servants left from the days when young Rosalyn played here, and I trow they would help me.”

“That's a thought.” Tony nodded. “Thank you for warning me. I'll take steps to thwart that alley of escape.”

Defiance, she realized, exacted its own retribution.

It wasn't fair, but the life of an actor had prepared her for injustice. However, nothing could make her like it. Trying to peel his grip off her shirt, she said, “Hold me, but I'll not wed you.”

“As you wish.” Their fingers grappled, fumbling, straining, slipping, and even with one hand Tony could easily have overcome her. She knew it, and he knew it. She fumed, and he smiled unrelentingly as he insulted her. “You'd be totally inappropriate as my wife. You haven't had the training to be a noblewoman.”

Stung, she broke his hold. “I've got noble bloodlines,” she cried. “I'm a fast learner and I'm an actress who has many times played the part of a noblewoman. 'Tisn't I who lacks what is necessary to be noble.”

“Rosie,” Sir Danny warned.

But she rushed on, unheeding. “I've heard rumors about your background. You're a bastard.
You're
not fit to be a nobleman.”

Thrusting his head down to her level, he asked, “Are you really a woman?”

Equally aggressive, she thrust her head forward, meeting him nose to nose. “Aye.”

“You'd best prove it then, because if you're a man, I'm going to run you through.”

“Prove it?” Sir Danny squawked.

“Now,” Tony agreed, and grabbed her by the crotch.

Furious, beset, invaded, she grabbed right back. Neither of them jumped; they stared, eyeball-to-eyeball, breathing heavily. Finally, Tony whispered, “Have I proved to your satisfaction that I am a man?”

“Aye,” she whispered back. “Have I proved to you I am a woman?”

“Aye.”

Did he know how those little pulses fed excitement
to her insides? Did she know exactly what it meant?

“I think,” he continued, “we should wed soon.”

“Nay.”

For the first time in this dreadful interview, his smile was whimsical, a curve of happiness that begged to be kissed. “Pray tell, lady mine, why not?”

“Why not? Why not?” Lady Honora stood in the doorway, bristling with indignation. “Because you're going to wed me!”

Tony and Rosie jumped apart, and Lady Honora swept in, her wide, stiff skirt catching the sides of the door. She freed herself with a jerk. “Explain yourself, Tony.” Tony slid behind his desk and seated himself, and Rosie knew why.

“How did you hear of this?” he demanded.

Without inflection, Lady Honora said, “Your steward did his duty and told me.”

“Hal?” Tony glanced around, then shouted, “Hal!”

“Sir?” Hal hastened in.

“I have scarce heard the news myself, and you're spreading the word like a royal messenger?”

Bowing repeatedly, Hal stammered, “Nay, sir, I only kept guard at th' door because o' th' faulty latch.”

“Faulty latch?” Tony stared, impressive in his fury.

The color slid down Hal's wrinkled brow and found residence in his sagging chins, and he swung the door back and forth, back and forth in nervous little movements. “Aye, th' door developed a problem with th', ah…” Giving up, he bowed to Lady Honora. “This lady demanded t' know th' events which transpired within, an' sir, I'm so sorry, but I couldn't withstand her questioning.”

“Of course not.” Lady Honora dismissed him with a gesture.

“Of course not,” Tony agreed. “Justly punished for
your eavesdropping, you are and will be. Get out of my sight and stay out. I'll replace you as steward—”

“Nay, sir,” Hal implored.

“—unless you can prove your loyalty to me and Odyssey Manor.”

“Aye, I will. I swear I will.”

“There are others who vie for your position. Now get out.”

Rosie shut her eyes to close out the sight of Tony, still, quiet, and so angry he frightened her. But some sound brought them open again, and she found Hal on his knees before her.

“My lady.” He took her limp hand and held it as if it were a holy chalice. “'Tis an honor to serve ye once more. This time—”

“Don't touch her!” Tony was beside her before she could blink, snatching her hand from Hal's grasp, holding it so tightly her knuckles cracked.

“Tony, such violence! He's just ignorant,” Lady Honora rebuked as Hal scrambled up and ran. “He believes she is the heir.”

“Lady Honora,” Sir Danny called, but Lady Honora's high ruff kept her from turning her head. Stepping into Lady Honora's line of vision, he said, “Lady Honora, she
is
the heir.”

“You!” Ignoring Tony with impressive disdain, Lady Honora looked down her impressive nose. “You've lied to me about everything.”

Sir Danny tossed his impressive mane. “There is another alternative. I could have told you the truth about everything.”

“Why should I believe an actor?” she demanded.

“Because”—with impressive courage, Sir Danny laid his finger between her thin, tweezed brows—“you are an excellent judge of character.”

She stood still as if she couldn't believe he'd touched her, and he held her gaze until the door slammed against the wall once more.

Jean and Ann elbowed each other like children, both anxious to enter the room first.

“Tony,” Jean said. “What's this tale the servants are babbling?”

Ann finished, “That the lost heiress is back, and you're marrying her?”

Tony looked out the door to the milling group of excited servants. “News travels faster than a flash of lightning, I see.”

“You mean it's true?” Jean clutched her red wig as if it would blow off in the strong wind of change.

Silently Tony handed Lord Sadler's yellowed will to Jean, and Ann and Lady Honora crowded close, reading it over her shoulder. When they had finished, Jean silently handed it back.

Ann recovered first. “Lady Honora, what think you?”

Lady Honora answered, but not the right question. “Sir Danny was saying I was an excellent judge of character, and that's true.”

“Fantastic,” Tony murmured. “He's thoroughly charmed her.”

Lady Honora continued, “But regardless of the truth of any claim, it's impossible. A woman of low repute cannot become an heiress.”

Sir Danny fixed her with his most hypnotic gaze. “Rosie…Rosalyn is not a woman of low repute. I've personally supervised her every moment, waking and sleeping. She passes from my hands to the hands of her husband, untouched and unawakened.”

Lifting Rosie's hand to his mouth, Tony kissed it with lingering care. “I knew that.”

She dug her nails into his hand and he quickly let go.

“Queen Elizabeth is above all a practical monarch, and the truth of Rosalyn's purity, even her heritage, pales beside the disgrace of her upbringing. Nay!” Lady Honora slashed the air. “With sorrow I must inform you, Sir Danny, that she is not suitable. But”—she lifted a finger—“I would be glad to offer her shelter in one of my homes. Sir Edward Sadler's daughter
must
be rescued from the gutters into which she has fallen. She must be trained to behave like a lady.”

“I have a better idea.” Tony's cheek quirked in amusement. “Teach her to behave like a lady here.” Rosie jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, and he grunted. Rubbing his side, he continued, “Teach her not to attack me. Teach her how to behave at table, how to run a household, how to be a correct wife for a nobleman of my stature.” Anchoring her arms with his, Tony picked her up and turned her kicking feet away from him. “'Tis a challenge worthy of you three, is it not?”

He'd read them correctly. Jean avidly examined the struggling girl. “She has possibilities.”

Lady Honora listened to the street curses spilling forth. “She needs to be taught when to speak and when to be silent.”

“Mostly”—Ann sniffed—“she needs a bath.”

“A bath?” Sir Danny shuddered. “Disgusting concept.”

“A bath?” Rosie shrieked. “Sir Danny, they want to drown me.”

Jean went to the door and ordered a tub of hot water, upstairs in the largest guest room, at once. Ann threw a rug over Rosie's head to subdue her. Lady Honora ordered, “Quiet, girl. We're going to give you a bath.” Taking a pinch of Rosie's short, dirty cloak between her fingers, she rubbed it, then dropped it in disgust. “Probably two. Hand her to the serving maids, and be careful of her arm.”

Everyone watched—the women and Tony in approval, Sir Danny in consternation—as the transfer was made and the screaming bundle was carried off.

Lady Honora dusted her hands briskly. “We'll let you know when the deed is done.”

Tony listened as the howls for Sir Danny and the shouted demands proceeded up the stairs, then went back to the desk and seated himself, prepared to take up the work interrupted by his betrothal. The foundry demanded much of his attention; it should be running soon with improved machinery, and the money which he had so freely invested would at last be returning.

A shaking finger appeared under his nose, and he looked up at the horrified Sir Danny. “You can't do this,” Sir Danny said. “She had a bath just last summer, and everyone knows a winter bath will kill a body.”

Tony picked up his quill and contemplated it. “A bath will not kill her.”

“Likely tale. If you're going to torment the poor lass, I'll take her away and find another method to get her settled.” Sir Danny wheeled for the door.

“As you wish,” Tony replied. “But if you go up to the bedchamber to rescue her, I think I should warn you—Lady Honora has already mentioned you need a good scrubbing.”

Sir Danny wheeled back around and stared in terror. Tony nodded a gentle confirmation. Sir Danny fled, not up to the bedchamber, but outside to safety.